


Midnight Sun

by endearingdaniel



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Family Issues, Fluff and Angst, Gay Dan Howell, Gay Male Character, Human Phil Lester, Human/Vampire Relationship, M/M, Mild Gore, Mild Smut, Slow Burn, Soulmates, Twilight References, Vampire Dan Howell, Victorian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:15:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23558965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endearingdaniel/pseuds/endearingdaniel
Summary: Daniel Howell, A young boy born to parents Fredrick and Mary in London 1801. Life isn't as Daniel would've hoped, he is forced to work at the market stall, surrounded by poverty and his disproving father. During a heated argument Daniel leaves home only to be a vampires next meal. When he somehow survives he has to leave his old life behind, struggling to adjust to the ways of the pale skinned. When he meets Phil over 100 years later, will his life finally have a happy ending?
Relationships: Dan Howell & Phil Lester, Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	1. More for the Rich, Less for the Poor...

The soft sound of birds filled the small room, my eyes struggled to open as the bright light of the morning sunshine threatened to permanently blind me if I didn’t sit up in the next few minutes. It was Wednesday, most famously known as fish day here in London, the day that my parents adored and i myself shunned. The hounds of people overcrowding the stalls and throwing their money at me and my father was almost enough to make me consider letting the sun blind me.

“Daniel darling, your father will not be very pleased to see you still laying there when he returns.” I heard my mothers gentle voice call from across the room. My father was passionate about the market, particularly on days of high demand such as these. “You know how he is on fish day.” I heard her softly chuckle before laying both my vest and shirt on the slightly broken wooden table.

My family and I aren’t one of the lucky Londoner’s you hear about, the wealthy, well dressed and well nourished. We have a roof above our heads and food on the table most nights despite our insignificant house, it is small and you need to be prepared to live with the occasional rat or two, but it’s at the price of long, difficult and strenuous work day. Our stall at the market is open Monday through to Sunday which leaves no time for lounging as my father, Fredrick James would say. He’s a very productive man, never leaves a second to waste away which according to my grandmother he has been all his life. My father grew up helping my grandmother with the markets in London, as he now expects of me, his only son. That is also where he met my mother, Mary James, my mother was a farmer who had travelled from across the country seeking a new life away from home. Her passion for farming tied well with my fathers. They married young, almost as young as I am now and within only a year later, I was born. Mother had always told me how much my father had adored me as a child, apparently, I was his pride and joy its only as of now while I approach my twenties that things have shifted melodramatically, arguments are not uncommon between us. I spend the majority of my days awaiting my trouncing, always wanting to remind me of how I am not the son he wished I would be, one that would eventually be able to take over the market stall as he did for his mother but I have been one who has always dreamed of exploring Europe and preforming or writing in theatre which my father strongly disapproves of, I have soon learnt not to even bother to bring such subject up as it mostly ends in an argument.  
So, I spend my days at the filthy, overcrowded and perpetually loud market stall in the middle of London with my father. Selling meats, fruits and vegetables in unpredictable English weather until sundown, whilst my mother Mary looks after the farm where we are provided with our stock to sell. It is the same routine everyday which can be rather exhausting to most, especially when you have no choice.

After a few minutes had passed I finally decided to climb out of my bed, my curly brown hair hanging over my dark eyes, luckily, they seemed to cover the bruised appearance my tired eyes posed due to the lack of sleep which had become a nightly occurrence. As I pull over my long shirt and my still stained, slightly oversized vest my father’s loud footsteps could be heard approaching the door, his heavy boots were never to miss. He is always first to rise early in the house, tending to the stock for the day and preparing the meat for selling.  
As the door swung open my father made eye contact with me, offering only a quiet “Good morning Daniel” As he grabbed his long coat from the hanger.  
“Ready to go I hope so” He continued as his brows raised slightly before moving over to greet my mother. A lot would say myself and my father look alike. Though we may have the same features we have different ambition’s and means of life. My brown eyes matched his, bright yet dark at the same time, yet the curls on my head belonged to my mother who’s blonde curls enhanced her beautiful emerald eyes.

Once I had fully clothed myself in my long-sleeved shirt, vest, slightly torn trousers and marked shoes I pressed a soft kiss to my mother’s cheek, her half smile and pat on the shoulder a gentle warning to abide by my father instructions. As I exited the house, I proceeded in grabbing a sack to withstand the weight of the vegetables for the day, beginning to pack the fresh stock onto our cart whilst my father attended to our meat stock and of course the fish. It was particularly warm today meaning the market would be busy. The heat was pro and a con, due to the excessive hours stood in the intense temperature it definitely made it harder to not want to melt into a puddle of my own sweat.

As myself and my father began the journey to the market we never spoke for the duration of the journey, the usual scenario with him. Despite us not being particularly wealthy my father still knew people closer to town, he was known as a kind man, humorous and offering great deals which brough great business for the family. My grandmother had a strong part to play in that, she was very known among the local customers as well for her kind spirit as my grandfather had also been, though had been killed long before my birth.

As we grew closer to the market the dread began to set in all over my body, my fathers stern glances burning into my soul as my unhappiness must have been very present on my face for him to already look upset with me. 

I began to set up for my father as he continued a conversation with one of the residents, Henry, a good friend of him and my mother’s his voice almost a whisper as he almost looked concerned in the mist of the brief conversation. As I emptied the bags and prepared the meat in the correct places, the sweat was already building across my forehead with the sun beaming down on us.  
“We set for the day boy?” I jumped as my father suddenly stood behind me, admiring the work I had done so far.  
I nodded quickly dusting my vest down, now slightly covered by a hint of fish.  
“Good.” He sighed with pursed lips before he turned to serve our first buyer of the day, a wealth woman by the name of Bertha, who comes regularly to buy our meats of course… you know what they say, more for the rich and less for the poor.


	2. Londons Ungodly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a long day of hard work, Daniel learns about his Grandfathers mysterious death and one of the many creatures lurking in London.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys sorry i took a little longer than i thought i would with this one! I know this is starting slow but i just wanted readers to be able to get a feel for Daniels life, which will help understand him in the future of his decisions. Please leave a comment and let me know if you are enjoying it so far i would love to hear your feedback. Thank you for reading its very much appreciated.

The trip home from the market was almost unbearable as bones ached, my skin scorched, and my legs trembled with collapse impending as we approached home, the sun gradually beginning to disappear behind the towering buildings and the mountains beyond the city. As anticipated, it had been busy, crowds of Londoners had hounded the stalls, mostly rich amongst the middle class. My shoes were filled with dry mud, stones were trapped between my toes, I could already feel the scrapes and bruises along the sole of my feet.  
The whole day had been met with greedy rich, dying for a slice of our freshly caught fish to feed their families. If only it was as easy as that? Throughout the day many people came and many left , my friend William dropped by, demanding he tell me about the rat that bit through his father’s trousers as he seemed to find it comical enough. Mrs brady dropped by and did her usual flirting with my father which always made me want to pull out my organs and give them to the highest bidder. 

My father hadn’t spoken to me the rest of the day, mostly avoiding eye contact and the occasional mutter from under his breath that was inaudible to my ears. He hadn’t been the same since this morning, his usual boisterous and witty personality usually surged through the market, followed by the occasional insult hurled at me for my lack of enthusiasm—but not today. Not a word. It filled me with dismay in a way I had not experienced before. Especially when I clumsily dropped a sack of carrots and he did nothing but glimpse in my direction with nothing but an eyeroll.

As we walked along the cobbled roads, leading us into the murky and muddy streets we resided in, faintly In the distance the sound of guns being fired, deep within the woods seemed to startle me from my trance of self-misery. My unfortunate fate tomorrow morning. I preferred the independence of the trees and bushes to the mind-numbing days at the stall, sometimes I even debated running away to which Thomas would remind me how ludicrous and preposterous the idea was even to imagine. I knew tomorrow morning I had the job of bringing back deer to carve and sell on Friday morning, usually I go with Thomas, luckily not my father who likes to express his amusement as I struggle to simply shoot a stand still animal. As guessed Thomas is really the only person I have close to a friend, most people in these streets refer to me as ‘Fredricks weird son’ and ‘the awkward young man’ which is true but I had hoped no one had noticed. William works amongst his mother’s farm tending to the few animals they have, while his father is a cobbler in town, very well-known and a good friend of my fathers. A nice family. Until Thomas almost shot Mrs Dawn by accident, which honestly was hilarious met by the disapproving eyes of his father and my father. Still bloody hilarious. 

Finally, our home was in sight, I did my usual and proceed to disposal area, just along from the house, it was used for families to get rid of their unwanted waste, straight forward if you could afford to waste anything. I walked down the stone steps into the underground, glass and food waste scattered across the ground area I carefully began loading all our trash from today, including the carrots that I had dropped earlier. But I’m not going to get into that again.  
I couldn’t help but feel sad for the poor people having no choice but to sleep in the disgusting, rat infested area… the homeless of course, what the rich referred too as the rodents, the scum of London, the people who couldn’t find a way in life. The sadness and deprivation were heavy in the air, the sound of coughing and rumbling stomachs were hard to bear hearing. Without a glance I quickly made me way up the steps, shuddering as the fresh air hit me once again.

I finally gave a brief sigh of final relief once I re-united with my father who was only slightly ahead. I don’t believe I had ever been so pleased to see our small wooden house, the dirty and slightly cracked window and the lopsided looking door. It had character…and rats of course. As we entered the house, leaving the emptied sacks on the doorstep to be re-used tomorrow, the familiar smell of rice and beans hurled to my nostrils, almost enough to cause my mouth to water. I was starving. The sun had annihilated all remaining energy from my physique and even then, there wasn’t much to take.  
My mothers head whipped in our direction, a welcoming smile forming on her lips, there was always a warm feeling you would get from my mother, a mellow aroura that seemed to surround her. I slipped of my ruined shoes leaving them beside the door to avoid trampling the dirty further into the house. As I did do, I began examining my scraped soles, the filthy cuts sure to cause infection within the next few hours, nothing I wasn’t used too.

“Hello boys, Good day? I made dinner for us” She gleamed as she wiped down our poor excuse of a wooden table, before generously laying out a portion each for us. My mother always made delicious food; it sometimes even made a gruesome day’s work worth it.  
“Sales were great” My father replied, his tone dry was with emotion whilst placing his coat on the hanger, his impenetrable eyes and inscrutable countenance giving enough away. Normally my father would be pleased to share his day, being sure to boast about the fantastic sales on day’s as these, always wanting to brag and be his obnoxious dick of a self I’d had to subject my days to, but he seems less enthusiastic than usual, almost as if he didn’t care which with any luck spared my brain for the evening as I merely did not have the energy.   
What had happened? Did I do something without knowing it? Was it the carrots? the possibilities with my father always seemed endless.  
I sighed, giving my mother a lenient kiss on the cheek before sitting down at the table examining the food before me, in days where there is food on the table is a win, there has been many days where we have went hungry for multiple days in a row, inopportunely it seems to be a reoccurring theme here in London. The rich are for themselves, leaving the poor to struggle. The lack of humanity drowns the overcrowded city, that’s what I really hate the most. The lack of benevolence and human morality, but I sometimes wonder if anyone can see the world the way I do.  
“Daniel? Are you listening?” My mothers angelic voice brought me out of my trance, her eyes glued to me. “Was it a good day? Meet any nice girls?”   
I muffled a groaned. The same conversation almost every night, but normally this type of question would come from my father, being the dick, he can be. In all honesty I feared if my mother found out I had met a woman she would die of contentment, mostly if she was rich of course. I didn’t plan on marrying anytime soon or frankly at all, the thought of marrying some rich woman in London made me feel a little uneasy, in hindsight i would much rather sell vegetables for the rest of my days. 

“Good, yes. Girls, no” I replied, trying to hide my exasperated expression as I’d rather throw myself off the nearest high point than subject myself to this conversation much longer. She nodded, luckily dropping the conversation. 

This was bizarre, very bizarre. The sound of his silence at the dinner table brought me a newfound feeling of anxiety as I stirred my food slowly, not daring to look up. His fists were clenched almost, his eyes glazed as if he was lost in a train of deep thought. I was just about to open my mouth, in an attempt to break the distressing silence when my father finally spoke. His voice crack almost with a hint of fear. A kind of emotion my father in no way seems to portray. 

“Margert Stewerts husband, Earl Stewert died last night.” He said faintly, intensely looking at my mother, as if I didn’t exist. “He had come back from a hunt with Richard late, they found his body outside the church, bite marks in his neck, just like the four others were found last week, Mary. Drenched of their own blood.” His tone thickened at the last sentence, causing a shiver to run down my spine, clearly my mother had the same reaction as I noticeably saw her flinch.

My stomach flipped, of course my father had mentioned about a family’s disappearance last week, suspected attack of something my father called ungodly and refusing to delve deeper into context.   
“Have they found the killer father?” I finally spoke, hesitantly, not sure if I really wanted to know much more.  
“What would they want with someone’s blood?” I continued to ask inquisitively, my father only chucking whilst digging his fork into his food whilst his head shook.  
“A vampire Daniel, you fucking idiot. Sometimes I wonder if you are actually in tune with the world boy.” My father spoke through gritted teeth, I flinched placing my fork down on the table slowly, I should’ve known that was coming considering I hadn’t received a single insult all day. “This is no man like us. Those who seek the blood of poor souls to feed. You remember me mentioning your grandfather William correct? Are you aware of his passing son?”

I frowned, of course my father had never mentioned how my grandfather had died only that from that day my father had changed, Grandmother never mentioned Grandfather William in fear it would provoke my father in his rage and anguish. I shook my head slowly, not wanting to further interrupt him.

“Your grandfather, my father, had been a hunter in these streets. Vampires, that’s what they are soiled, dreadful, ungodly creatures that lurk in the shadow. Your grandfather met his ends to one, the night it happened I could hear the desperate cries for mercy, followed by nothing but silence” His jaw clenched and fists tightened, I had never seen him so seemingly overwhelmed with emotion.   
“If I ever find one…” He drifted off, pulling away from the table and his untouched dinner. “I’m going to get an early night, you better be awake at sun rise boy, I expect you will be going hunting with Thomas.” And with that he left, making his way over to his bed in the corner, staring out the small excuse of a window beside his and my mother’s bed. Mother must have caught onto my bewildered expression. Vampires? What were they? Apparently not human but it sounded ridiculous to me. Of course, i had heard the tales of these seemly dreadful creatures but never heard my father of all people mention them.

My mother moved closer to me, wiping the dirt from my cheek.  
“Don’t worry my darling, he’ll be okay, its just not an easy thing for your father to bring up.” She soothed as she moved to stand up, gathering my fathers untouched food.  
“Are they real mother? Vampires?” I looked up as she bit her lip, as if she couldn’t answer such a question. Her back soon turned to me as proceeded in washing the worn clothes of the day, the house now filled with an unsettling silence.

With my brain scrambled, I lay in the bed, listening to the distance snores from my father. My mind raced; my heart pounded. Apparently, we weren’t the only creatures in London.

Maybe William would be able to give me the answers I suddenly desperately craved.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi this is my first time writing for a few years so if i can improve please do let me know! Ive had this idea in my head since i was young, so finally here it is! hope you enjoy :)


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